


hooked (on all these feelings)

by fallingroses



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: F/M, Valentine's Day, all human modern au, this is all fluff there is no substance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-17
Updated: 2018-02-17
Packaged: 2019-03-20 09:48:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13715130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fallingroses/pseuds/fallingroses
Summary: Feyre wouldn't say she hated Valentine's Day, but she definitely didn't like it.





	hooked (on all these feelings)

**Author's Note:**

> happy (very, very, very) late Valentine's Day! i present 2k words of vapid holiday fluff. enjoy.

Feyre wouldn't say she hated Valentine's Day.Hating required carefully crafted arguments and an unmitigated passion for a particular sentiment. Feyre did not feel strong enough about Valentine’s Day to say she hated it, but she definitely did not like it. She was, at most, indifferent to it. This lack of enthusiasm was the result of several years of bad experiences.

 

The last time she had celebrated Valentine's Day when had been two years when she still been with Tamlin. She had not minded big gestures then - it was practically the only way that Tamlin knew how to do anything romantic - and she had been looking forward to it. They had gone out to dinner at a restaurant that was so posh that it would have taken three of her paychecks to afford an appetizer. But Tamlin threw money around are like it was candy and he hadn't so much as even blinked at the high price list.

 

The scale of the restaurant wasn't the worst of it. The server had flirted with Tamlin during their entire dinner and he returned the attention in kind. When she had brought dessert out, the server accidentally knocked over a glass of water and Tamlin lost it. One second he was all smiles and good humor, and the next he was shouting insults and curses. That had taken Feyre's discomfort to a level she couldn't justify. When they got back to their apartment after dinner they had fought about it. There was very little romance or grand gestures of affection that night.

 

She had no desire to dwell on the memory.

 

Last year, she had been newly single and too lost in her own darkness and desperation to even acknowledge it was a holiday. Her friends had come over, carefully avoiding any mention of the date. They piled into Feyre and Mor’s small apartment with too much take out and loud arguments over what movies they should watch.(Cassian demanded they watch a romantic comedy in the spirit of the holiday-they-were-not-mentioning. Mor glared at him. Amren proclaimed that Cassian was going soft and demanded they watch an action movie. Azriel quietly requested a documentary he had been meaning to see. In the end, they watched one of each.) 

 

That was a much nicer way to spend the evening. Maybe they hadn't been celebrating Valentine's Day in the traditional sense, but they were still celebrating their love for each other. And Feyre's love and loyalty for her chosen family was stronger than her love for Tamlin ever had been. It was nice, but there was a part of her that still wasn’t happy. Feyre was adamantly not acknowledging what she was feeling for Rhysand and couldn’t help the desperate little tug in her heart whenever she looked at him.

 

Another year had passed and Feyre was once again facing a cultural holiday she wanted no part in. Sometime in mid-summer, she and Rhys had gone from friends to partners and lovers and she was happier than she had ever been before. She loved Rhys every day of the year and saw no reason why she should bottle up those feelings and actions until a random day in the middle of the week in February. She simply did not see the point in performative and dramatic displays of affection. 

 

Rhys, on the other hand, had decided he loved Valentine's Day. 

 

He mentioned it off hand one day in January and, when Feyre shared her own feelings clear, made it his mission to change her mind. He latched onto anything that gave him the opportunity to make a big showing of how much he loved Feyre. Especially when he could also use it as an excuse to tease and annoy her stubborn side. 

 

For weeks ahead of the Big Day, he kept dropping none-too-subtle hints about his Big Plans for Valentine's Day. Big Plans. Extravagant Plans. The Best Valentine's Day Plans ever. Plans that would change Feyre’s apathetic feelings toward the holiday. 

 

But, of course, he refused to share any details with his beloved.

 

The longer the joke went on, the more annoyed Feyre got. She didn't hate Valentine's Day, and she wasn't mad at Rhys for wanting to celebrate, but she when he was so obviously taunting her by keeping all the details of this Big Plan a secret, her nerves got ragged.

 

Rhys pulled their friends into the whole thing, too. Cassian started sending her ambiguous text messages. Mor would throw in little comments like "that would just be perfect for your Valentine's plans" while they were shopping. Azriel had just been smirking at her anytime he saw her. Even Amren, who normally got no pleasure out of Rhys' pointless little games, refused to share any details.

 

"Our lives and livelihoods have been threatened if we reveal anything," Amren told her, shrugging. "Rhys doesn't scare me, obviously, but he seems excited so why should I ruin his happiness?"

 

"You're ruining mine!"

 

Amren rolled her eyes. "He loves you. You love him. So strongly so that the rest of us can barely stand to be around you in the same room. Let it be."

 

Feyre had huffed but relented.

 

She did love Rhys and she did want him to be happy. He knew her better than anyone else and knew what she would and wouldn’t like. She was just grumpy about being kept out of the loop.

 

So, when Feyre left work on the evening of February 14, she started in the direction of Rhys’ house. She briefly considered going back to her and Mor’s apartment as a last-ditch attempt to thwart his plan, but ultimately decided against it. She’d had a long day and all she really wants is to curl up in his arms and fall asleep.

 

On the way over, she had resigned herself to some ridiculous, if earnest, Valentine's Day shenanigans and prepared herself to make the best of it. She paused in Rhys' doorway, bracing herself for whatever she was about to walk into. She took a deep breath and knocked.

 

He swung the door open, leaning against one side and crossing his arms. He was dress in his signature all-black - tailored pants and a sweater that looked soft enough for Feyre to bury herself in.

 

“You have your own key," he said, smirking. "Or has your adamant denial of today blocked other parts of your memory as well?"

 

She rolled her eyes. "I hate you," she said without venom. "Let's get this Cauldron-cursed party started shall we?"

 

Rhys smiled at her and stepped back and to her past him. 

 

She was barely a single step into the house when Rhys crowded her against the wall, cradling her face in his hands, and leaning down to kiss her. Feyre felt herself relax, something in her chest releasing as she is drawn into the kiss. It's a soft kiss, slow and loving and not asking or demanding anything. It's a welcome and an apology and a thank you all at once.

 

"Hi," Rhys breathed, pulling back only far enough to lean his forehead against hers.

 

"Hi," she breathed back. She had let her hand come to rest along the edges of his own, her thumbs stroking along the curve of his knuckles.

 

"Thank you," he said, staying close to her. "For letting me do this."

 

She pressed a kiss to his palm, merely humming in response.

 

“I love you,” he said, smiling in the way that he reserves only for her. It's careful and small and honest in a way Rhys rarely lets himself be. 

 

Feyre’s her heart skipped, something that she hasn't become desensitized to, even in the almost nine months they've been together.

 

“I love you.”

 

It's nice. The kind of nice she spent years thinking she was never going to experience.

 

"Shall we?" Rhys asks, taking a step back and letting the rest of the question hang between them.

 

It's a question Feyre was grateful for. She knew he would scrap whatever festive activities he had planned if she truly wasn’t comfortable with them. He would not force something on her if she wouldn't be able to find some joy or comfort in it.

 

She lifted their hands from where they had dropped to hang in the space between them and pressed another kiss there. She smiled back and nodded.

 

Then, Rhys was beaming and dragging her the rest of the way into the house.

 

The rest of the night was perfect. For all his teasing and posturing and coyness, Rhys kept the dramatics to a minimum. 

 

He deposited her on the couch and kept her there for the whole night. He listened to her ramble about work and spent the entire evening with his full attention on her. He brought her good food and wine that literally made Feyre groan in satisfaction. 

 

She was comfortable and relaxed and happy. She had worked herself into a panic that he was going to...she didn’t know what. But she was worried that it was going to be another Valentine’s Day where she was wishing for something more, something else. But there wasn’t a single thing about the night she would have changed.

 

"So," he said when it was late. Their plates had been deposited in the kitchen and there was a movie they weren’t paying attention to playing in the background. They were facing each other on the couch, legs tangled beneath a blanket. "Did you survive my terrible, horrible, no good romantic holiday gesture? Am I forgiven? Have you accepted February 14th as the greatest day of the year?"

 

Feyre smiled, leaning her head against the arm of the couch and curling her toes under his thigh. She hummed in response.

 

"Shall I take that as a yes?"

 

"No," Feyre said.

 

"No?" he prompted, sliding one of her feet out and digging his thumbs in.

 

Feyre flinched when he hit a ticklish spot but does not move otherwise. She makes another vague noise in answer to his question. She was too content to form words.

 

"Feyre darling," he said, again. 

 

There was something in his voice that made Feyre pry her eyes open and sit up. He was looking at her again, a different intensity in his eyes. Something more serious. Something darker. She didn't know what to expect but didn't hesitate to crawl to the other side of the couch when he opened his arms to sink into them.

 

"What is it?" she asked when she was settled. She was warm and comfortable and in love.

 

"I love you," he said.

 

"I love you.”

 

"I --" He stopped himself, taking a deep breath. He leaned down his head down so he was speaking directly into Feyre’s ear, forcing the breath out unevenly and starts talking before he forgets the speech he had only half prepared.

 

"I love you so much I can't think straight sometimes," he said, his breath disturbing the hair at the top of Feyre’s head. "And I know I should not have needed a holiday to say that and I know that you think Valentine's is a useless and performative holiday but I wanted an excuse to pamper you and take care of you and I would absolutely do this for you every day if you want."

 

"Rhys," she said, voice raw.

 

“Feyre,” he said, drawing her closer to him. “I’m happier now than I have ever been and ever will be and it’s because of you. I am luckier than I deserve to have found you. To get to have this.” He hugged her tighter to him. “Thank you. For being you. For being with me. For loving me.”

 

Feyre closed her eyes, letting the words wash over her. She let her head fall back onto his shoulder, opening her eyes to meet his. Whatever words she had planned to say died in her throat. She was overwhelmed with the flush of stars in her eyes. She could only imagine that hers held the same. It expressed something more powerful than any words she could conjure.

 

She turned in his embrace so they were facing each other. She kissed him, quick and easy with the promise of more to come.

 

“I love you,” she said. “And thank you. For saving me. For knowing me. For loving me.”

 

Rhys returned her kiss as if he couldn’t stop himself from doing so.

 

“And,” she continued, smiling against his lips, “I guess I can admit that this isn’t the worst holiday ever. Even if you were insufferable about it.”

 

Rhys laughed, more breath than sound.

 

“Does that mean you don’t want your present?”

 

“Depends,” Feyre said, burying her hands in his hair, lips teasing the edge of his ear. “Does it involve me getting revenge for your weeks of teasing?”

 

“Anything you want, Feyre darling,” he said, leaning into her touch. “Anything you want.”

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading pals
> 
> (pls let me know if there are any typos i trust neither my own eyes nor spellcheckers)


End file.
